


Happy Birthday John

by StarlightAndFireflies



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Presents, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Sherlock is rubbish at navigating everyday activities, Shopping, at least that's what I was aiming for, but he's still adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4785023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightAndFireflies/pseuds/StarlightAndFireflies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an important date comes up, Sherlock finds himself doing something he never has before - shopping! But will he succeed and manage to get his best friend a present? Not my best summary but oh well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday John

**Author's Note:**

> I'm American, so this is probably a somewhat inaccurate depiction of UK stores. Forgive me.
> 
> And unfortunately, I don't own Sherlock.

Sherlock's phone made a strange dinging sound, one he hadn't heard before. He picked it up, staring at it in mild confusion.  
  
**Alert: 7 July - John's birthday**

Sherlock gazed at the screen for a moment, considering. Today was John's birthday, and usually friends gave one other gifts for such occasions. Would John expect something from Sherlock? Was this something flatmates expected from each other? He supposed so; after all, both John and Mrs. Hudson had given Sherlock gifts for his birthday a few months ago.

Sherlock glanced around the room, thinking. What should he get John? He retreated into his mind palace, into the room he had dedicated to the army doctor. He cataloged what he already knew John possessed and the things he certainly would not want. But what did the doctor need?

They always seemed to have a shortage of tea and milk, but was that a good enough gift? Even to Sherlock that seemed rather mundane.

Sherlock frowned. Maybe he should approach this in a different way. John complained about being the only one who made sure Sherlock got food in his stomach, made sure the refrigerator was stocked, and that they weren't going to go bankrupt. What if Sherlock were to do that? Well, not do the bills, obviously, but get the food? John would appreciate it, he thought.

But John was a fairly traditional person, so would he expect a cake to commemorate the anniversary of his birth as well? Sherlock didn't even know what sort of cake John liked, if he liked it at all. He supposed he would have to guess.

Glad to have come to some sort of decision, Sherlock dashed for the door, grabbing his coat and scarf and sneaking down the stairs and out of the flat. He ran out onto the street and hailed a cab. If John could manage to survive Tesco all the time, then Sherlock, brilliant-minded genius, certainly could as well.

Couldn't he?

 

* * *

  
Sherlock spun around, confused once again. He could have sworn that the aisle told him that he could find tea here. The sign had said "Drinks", so where was the tea?  
  
"Who designed this shop?" Sherlock muttered a few minutes later, glaring at the box of tea. It had taken him ages to find it, as it ended up being in an entirely different aisle. Cursing at nothing, Sherlock had forced his way through the crowd in the produce area as he began his search for cake.

 

* * *

  
Sherlock scowled and looked at each aisle's sign again. He had managed to find the milk easily earlier; the refrigerated section was the only easy place to locate in this sea of illogically-placed food items. Now he was cradling a large jug of milk with the tea in the inexplicably cheap basket. He shifted it to his other hand as he paused again, looking down another aisle that seemed to have baking supplies. Sighing in relief, he hurried toward the cake mix. He grabbed a random box, as well as a jar of frosting, then turned with a grin of triumph on his face.

He froze in bewilderment. He was now facing the back of the store. How had he gotten there? Spinning on the spot, he frowned again. There was something strange about this store, that was certain, he decided as he stalked back toward the front of the store toward the check outs.

 

* * *

  
"Item not bagged. If you would not like to bag this item, press the Skip Bagging button on the screen."

"Oh, shut up!" Sherlock snapped, jabbing the stupid button. "It's in the bag, idiot, but it doesn't weigh anything! It's a box of tea bags!"

These things needed better weight sensors, he thought as he seized the milk and scanned its barcode. Slamming it down aggressively into the bag, he smirked. Did you feel that getting bagged, machine?

"Item weight incorrect. If you would not like to bag this item, press the Skip Bagging button on the screen."

Sherlock stared at the screen in fury, slapping at it in irritation. He distantly noticed a line forming behind him, but was too focused on the chip and pin machine to care. Tesco was out to get him, and oh was the game on.

 

* * *

  
"But I need those things!"

"I'm sorry sir, but you'll just have to take your business elsewhere. Now get out!"

"It's not my fault! It's your stupid machine!"

"Sir, you are the one who just destroyed public property. I wouldn't try to blame a computer."

"But I need those things!"

"Not from here!"

The store manager gave him one final push and slammed the doors on him. Sherlock glared at him through the glass as he straightened his coat and scarf. The manager glared right back challengingly until Sherlock was forced to admit defeat and turn away.

It wasn't his fault, Sherlock complained to himself. The chip and pin machine had been asking for it. All that silly "item not scanned" and "unexpected item in the bagging area" business was not Sherlock's fault. Sure, maybe he had kicked the machine a bit hard a couple of times, but it was clearly faulty if it was going to spark and nearly catch fire when he did so. It was obviously a danger to the public. The manager should have thanked Sherlock for showing them the hazard.

And now Sherlock was empty-handed on John's birthday. And he was fairly sure he had broken his toe kicking that evil thing...

 

* * *

  
"Sherlock, is that you?" John's voice reached him from the stairs. Sherlock limped up the seventeen steps and into the sitting room. He spotted John at the table, and quickly forced himself to try to stop limping. John looked up from his tea and toast to smile.

"Morning. Where have you been?" he asked pleasantly, making Sherlock feel even worse. He had failed to get a present for his only friend. What kind of friend did that make him?

"Nowhere," Sherlock muttered dejectedly as he took off his coat and scarf. Then he mustered a smile. "Happy birthday, by the way."

John looked surprised. "I didn't think you knew my birthday. But thanks."

"I do try to keep track of you somewhat, John," Sherlock replied, sitting across from his flatmate, still feeling disappointed in himself. "Is there anything special you want to do today?"

John looked even more surprised at that question. "I thought you would want to finish that experiment you started yesterday," he said, nodding at the petri dish in the kitchen. "We don't have to do anything."

"But John, it's your birthday," Sherlock implored, determined to make up for his failure. "Don't you want to do something?"

John shook his head. "No, it's fine, Sherlock, really."

He opened his laptop, probably to check his blog. Sherlock watched him, wondering if John was upset that Sherlock hadn't gotten him anything. The detective stood up to find his phone, too preoccupied to remember to hide his limp.

"Sherlock, you okay?" John asked behind him, sounding concerned.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine," he replied, trying to sound casual.

But once again, Sherlock Holmes had underestimated John Watson.

"You went out to buy something, didn't you?"

Sherlock snapped his gaze onto John again, who had stood up and was looking intently at him. He smirked at Sherlock's startled expression.

"Well, why else would you have gone out so early?" John continued. "I remember how much you freaked out on Mrs. Hudson's birthday, how you made me take you to buy her flowers. And it was lucky I went, too, because otherwise you would have strangled that poor flower vendor."

"He was being unreasonable," Sherlock offered quietly, still remembering the stern lecture John had given him that day.

John grinned. "I know, but you didn't need to insult everything about him. Anyway, that's not the point. You think you have an obligation to get people presents for their birthday, but you have no people skills, or shopping skills, really."

Sherlock flushed, embarrassed. "And what makes you so sure that's what I was doing today?"

"Because I know you, Sherlock," John replied, trying to not to laugh. "So what happened?"

Sherlock glanced down. "The chip and pin machine," he admitted.

John did laugh this time. "I told you those things were evil."

Sherlock frowned. "I'm sorry, John. I was going to buy you a cake and tea and milk..."

John laid a hand on his shoulder, still grinning. "It's okay, Sherlock, really. It's the thought that counts, alright? I'm just glad you tried."

"You're not upset?" Sherlock asked.

John shook his head. "Of course not! Why don't we go to Angelo's tonight?"

Sherlock managed a smile. "Sure."

 

* * *

  
Later that night, after they had gone to dinner, Sherlock and John were back in 221B. John was lounging on the sofa watching telly, while Sherlock sat in the kitchen, finishing his experiment. He tuned half an ear onto the telly when the news came on.

"In other news, a disturbance at a local Tesco this morning made some citizens' days a bit more interesting..."

"Sherlock! Is this you catching the chip and pin machine on fire?" John shouted from the other room.

Sherlock grinned. "Happy birthday John."

  
FIN.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this bit of silliness! If you have the time or desire, please review. ~ SAF


End file.
